Eyes On You
by Scintilla-Ish
Summary: You know that feeling when you die, but then you wake up again in a different world and as a different person, and said person is an Uchiha? It feels like a cop out, right! I know that feeling very well. SEMI-AU.
1. Prologue: A Drink

'Never have I ever tried killing myself before.'

Of course, if I was the one telling you that, it would be one big fat lie.

Don't believe anything I tell you, really. I'm a liar through and through. And it holds true especially when I tell my friends that I'm okay now.

'I'm okay, I'm okay. Look, I haven't cut at all in this past year!' and I show them my wrists and arms, preferring not to to say anything about my bleeding thighs.

I don't want to say anything about it. I don't want to take the medicine they give me. I don't want to get better. I don't want to.

Maybe I'm scared. And I know that I'm scared of the most irrational of things like getting better even though it's good for me, or heights even though I want to jump off roofs if it means ending this.

I'm scared. I'm unsure. I hide the medicine and say that I took it even though I didn't.

Please don't believe everything I say with a smile on my face. I'm a liar through and through.

I fucking hate how I'm such a liar and how in the end I'm always going to let everyone down. I let them believe I was getting better but I'm so fucking scared of being better because I_ have no idea who I am outside of this disaster that I don't want to get _**_b_**_**etter**—_

I take in deep breaths. I can cry all I want but nothing will change. It hurts and that will never change because I don't want it to. I just want it to end.

_I want to die._

I want to stop letting everyone down. I want to stop being so selfish all the time. I want to stop it. I want it to end.

_I want to die._

I want everyone to stop forcing me to do things I don't want to do. I want them to leave me the fuck alone. I don't want anything else. I want it to end.

_I want to die._

I sob as those thoughts go on repeat.

_I'm so selfish._

I can feel my breathing go quick and I let it.

_I want to die._

(I need to die.)

I'm trembling when the sobs stop crawling out of my throat. Everything's quiet. My head is blissfully silent for once in what feels like decades.

My eyes are wide and I can't breathe.

The tears don't stop pouring.

* * *

I see off my friends with a smile and we all wave at each other as we go our separate ways. I feel a bit empty when they're gone, but I don't think anything can bring down my mood today.

Small setbacks like the paper towels breaking because of my wet hands aren't upsetting me as much as they're supposed to.

I'm still smiling a little when I turn away from them, feeling light and glad for an unexplainable reason.

I managed to pay for everything we ate today before they realized it, but they were all angry when they did. Though there's nothing better than knowing that you have enough money to pay for everything that you bought.

My parents aren't going to be home until tomorrow, and I feel a bit disappointed, but maybe it's for the best. My siblings aren't home either, they're in other cities, working. I have no plans tomorrow or next week.

All my plans will be done today!

I plug in my earphones and listen to some music, putting it on high volume and not caring about the habitual mental scolding I get from an imaginary version of a friend. Just this once, okay?

I still have a smile on my face when I get home.

It's quiet.

That's okay. I'm already used to it. And after this...

I go through the motions of my evening routine. I take a shower, get dressed, put the music on my speakers, and I sit on the bed with a mug of something. Usually warm milk or tea to sleep better.

The volume on my speakers are put on low.

I open my phone and swirl the liquid in my mug. It's my favorite mug. It has a galaxy background with a unicorn colored in with the bisexual flag. It's something I got for my birthday three months ago.

I scroll through my feed as I sip in small amounts, as I usually do, so that I won't sleep so soon.

My eyes start to hurt from the bright light, and I drain my cup, feeling it scald my throat slightly and I almost choke.

I manage to hold it in out of sheer willpower as I set it down on my nightstand.

I close the lights, my eyes squinted as they ache, and I burrow into my blankets, breathing out in stutters in peace and bliss.

I have a letter on my nightstand. I used my mug to hold it down so that it won't fly away while I sleep.

My eyes still hurt.

My throat is burning.

I close my eyes and sleep.

* * *

When I wake up, I vomit.


	2. I woke up

_When I wake up, I vomit._

* * *

Someone is there to immediately pull out whatever the hell is in my throat, shoving a bucket in my face and pushing my head over it.

A long, tense silence fills the room as I retch and puke, feeling myself tremble and distant hands brush back my hair and rub my back.

I hold myself over the bucket, clutching it for dear life. I ignore the putrid smell wafting into my nose, instead taking note of how big everything feels.

I'm overwhelmed by the utter hopelessness I feel when I realize the situation I'm in.

_Am I so useless that I can't even kill myself properly?_

Before—

_Someone stopped me._

Someone brought me to the hospital before I could die.

Someone forced me to continue this life.

I can feel myself shake in fury. I clench my hands on the edges, and I just want to fucking _throw this disgusting bucket at whoever decided they have the _right_ to _care_ for me—_

Is it this person who has such comforting hands?

At that thought, I throw my head up, feeling a glare start to show with the sudden narrow of my eyes, and I just, stop.

I don't know this person.

"Who—" I wince at the drag of my voice, strained and croaking and hurting my throat. So instead I stay quiet, question-filled stare burning holes in the person.

This person has long, dark hair with equally as long and black lashes.

And he looks frozen for an undecipherable reason, face made of stone with disbelief and dread in his eyes.

He takes an audible breath in the silence of the white room, hands laying on his lap.

"Sasuke..."

I don't react to the name.

It's what makes him all but crumble despite the cool composure I can tell is a lie. It's a façade, and I see how my lack of a reaction makes him crack and tremble, as evidenced by what I can see of his hands.

He was expecting me to respond to the name, probably.

But that's not right, because Sasuke is not my name.

* * *

I'm given a glass of water before I'm face to face with a doctor as I stay silent, only staring at the clipboard and blinking whenever she asks me a question.

I'm more invested in the sudden thoughts I get that make no sense, but at the same time feel like they have a right to be in my head.

Childish, but knowledgeable thoughts.

Eventually the doctor sighs and tells me to blink once for no or blink twice for yes.

I follow her instructions, the mind in my head telling me that it's better for me to do so. I'm not completely honest when I answer, and I don't care anymore unlike before— Before.

"Do you remember what happened before you lost consciousness?"

_I was drinking a mug of bleach._ I blink once.

"Do you remember where you are?"

_I'm in the hospital?_ I pause before blinking once.

"Do you remember what your name is? Your age?"

I don't give her a blink. I just stare.

I can't remember my name.

I know I was finishing highschool but at what age?

_I don't know._

I can't remember.

I give the doctor one, slow blink.

She stays quiet as she jots down everything.

* * *

"_Do you know who these people are?"_

_One blink._

_"__Her name is Uchiha Mikoto, your mother. This one is Uchiha Fugaku, your father. And this one is Uchiha Itachi, your elder brother."_

_Blank._

_"__Do you remember them?"_

_One blink._

* * *

"_Every single question pertaining to his personal life has been answered with a negative, sir."_

_"Logical questions, however, are answered with no hesitation and correctly."_

_"__What of the events leading to his coma?"_

_"__We're afraid even the victim himself doesn't have the answers to that, Hokage-sama."_

* * *

I stay idle and stare whenever someone visits my room, usually an unfortunate nurse who has to deal with my— no doubt— unsettling behavior, or the other people who also have the misfortune of dealing with the blank slate that is me.

The body I'm in had a family—_that's still alive,_ and it feels like a terrible, terrible scam.

It would've been better if I'd taken over an orphan instead of a child with actual parents and an older brother.

The first person I saw had apparently been Sasuke's older brother.

The parents, I've had displeasure of meeting both of them, and I hated the father more than I hated the mother.

I didn't actually hate hate them. Just what they represented and how they reminded me of my own parents, who I— _selfishly— left Behind—_

I jerk my thoughts to an image of stabbing a pillow over and over again. I can feel that particular thought get turned over and laid to rest in a corner of my mind where I deal with the rest of it in genuine peace and quiet.

I don't understand why thinking of violence is the only way I can think clearly now.

Eventually, my thoughts start to drift again.

Uchiha Mikoto. My mother now.

She looked like the simple, submissive housewife, and I didn't like that impression. She had rushed to me immediately and would've hugged me if her husband wasn't there to pull her back and if I hadn't been giving her a dead stare.

It looked like she'd remembered where she was and then remembered something else, probably the fact that I had no recognition of anything.

It was plain as day, since she almost broke down crying when I continued to give no response to them.

Uchiha Fugaku. The asshole conservative-looking man that stayed behind his wife and kept looking at me with a quiet, disappointed stare.

Something in me— the childish, knowledgeable voice, quivered at the eyes he gave me.

I didn't like him. I didn't like either of them. Why are they here if they're going to end up hurting themselves or me? They should just go home and forget they had another son.

Son.

And I was the little brother this time—

_(Chubby cheeks and a small hand closed around a finger.)_

I don't like this life.

I hate it.

* * *

Why am I even here?

I made plans, I went through with them. I did everything I could to end the pain and the numb and the horrible, miserable things and— I just— didn't get it.

My mouth tastes bitter.

No one likes not getting the results they work hard for.

If someone thought that a second chance at life would be motivating then they're fucking wrong.

This is not okay. Why me?

Someone else deserves a second chance and a person up there decided that a selfish, ungrateful brat and bitch was the right person to give this life to.

It feels like a fucking scam.

The door slides open and I turn to look.

It's the elder brother, Uchiha Itachi.

For an unassuming kid that looks like he's still in puberty, it's mildly concerning that he already has deep shadows under his eyes.

His back is straight but his shoulders look like they carry the world on them.

(He's someone I can tolerate. I never had an older brother and he doesn't remind me of anyone back when I was alive.)

He's quiet as he sits on the chair beside the bed. I don't understand why he keeps visiting when he keeps getting hurt every time he sees me.

Something in me recognizes him, and it recognizes the body language, the cues, and the expressions that the brother makes. And it's probably the remaining pieces of the little boy I took over.

The thought is sad and bitter like the rest of them.

"Sasuke." I don't react to the name.

And like every other time, I can all but see how something in him breaks.

"Sasuke," He says it again. I want to give him a look that says exactly how I feel about him doing this over and over again.

"You may not remember me now, and there is a fair chance of you never regaining your memories," The boy says, and I can tell that it hurts him to say it out loud—

"But know this,"

—yet his face gentles, softens, makes way for a small smile as he raises his hand. And something in my chest stirs and holds its breath.

"I will always love you, no matter who you are."

When he pokes my forehead in a gesture that feels like habit, the little somethings in my head, in my chest— they both cry.

It makes me cry too, and I tremble as the tears keep dripping.

Such a loving older brother, and I took him away from the little boy whose body I stole.

Why am I here?

The tears make stains on the sheets and through my blurry eyesight, I can see the bewildered face of the elder brother.

I close my eyes and turn my head.

I wish I never woke up.


End file.
